


Heart to Heart

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 02:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Will creeps over to the window, hesitating for a long moment before ripping back the curtain.“Mike?”Or:Mike has a nightmare and goes to Will for comfort.





	Heart to Heart

**Author's Note:**

> *ignores all my WIPs even harder*

Will used to be deep sleeper. He had to be in order to sleep through his parent’s fights when he was little, and as he got older, it made it easier to doze off to the sound of Jonathan’s music through their shared wall late at night when the older teen couldn’t find sleep himself. Throughout his life, he had slept through countless movie nights, Fourth of July fireworks, even tornado sirens, much to his mom’s concern.

But that all changed when he got trapped in the Upside Down. Now, every creak of a floorboard and every cough in the night sends Will jolting upright in his bed, staring wildly into the dark, looking for something that’s only there in his memories. He’s been back for months, started to get back into his old routine of going to school and hanging out with his friends; they even have plans for spring break next week, a beast of a campaign that Mike’s been working on for ages. Yet, no matter how normal his life seems to get, his nights stay the same—restless, like he’s trapped somewhere halfway between sleeping and waking, ready to jump up and _run _at any given moment.

That’s why, on a humid night at half past two in the morning, he does just that when something gently tap-tap-taps on his window. Will practically _launches _out of bed, on his feet before his eyes are even open, shakily brandishing his comm as a weapon. The tapping comes again, from the window to his right, the one right above his desk where he draws and does his homework. Wearily, and still blinking sleep from his eyes, Will creeps over to the window, hesitating for a long moment before ripping back the curtain.

“Mike?” he asks in disbelief.

His friend gives him a sheepish grin from down below, illuminated by one of the far-off lights in the distance. Will clambers onto his chair to lift the window open.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

‘Am I dreaming?’ he thinks.

“Uh…I snuck out,” Mike says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I can see that. _Why?_”

The taller boy shuffles on his feet nervously, eyes round and wide in a way that makes Will frightened.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Will looks around, noticing the placement of his desk, knowing he can’t move it on his own. “Go around to the front door. I’ll let you in.”

“Okay.”

He waits until Mike disappears around the corner before he darts across the room, dropping his comm on his dresser before quietly opening his bedroom door. Already he can hear Jonathan’s soft snores, and his mom’s own bedroom door is shut tight. It makes him feel more confident as he tiptoes down the hall, avoiding the scorch mark in the carpet. Will’s mind is racing. Why is Mike here? He’s never shown up at his house in the middle of the night before, probably wouldn’t unless something was really, _really _wrong.

He unfastens the deadbolt on the front door as slowly as he can and opens the door itself just as carefully. And Mike is actually there, on his front porch, wearing pajama pants and a sweater that looks two sizes too big. His head is tilted down, almost timidly, and he’s fiddling with the hems of his sleeves.

“Come on,” Will murmurs with a wave of his hand, and Mike follows.

Will doesn’t like to linger around his house at night—it reminds him too much of the Upside Down. Too many shadows, too many dark corners. They’re probably stealthier than they’ve ever been as the sneak back to Will’s room. In fact, Will doesn’t even think he _breathes _until his door his shut tight. He immediately turns on Mike.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

Mike chews his lip, a nervous habit that he’s almost broken, but isn’t quite there yet.

“Mike,” Will’s heart is pounding. “You’re scaring me.”

“I…I had a bad dream,” his friend looks embarrassed by his confession, but Will lets out an audible sigh of relief. It’s not the Demogorgon, or Hawkins Lab. Nobody’s dead or dying.

“It must have been really bad for you to come here.”

“It was.”

“So…” Will glances around, not really looking at anything, just trying to think of the right thing to say. “You wanna stay here?”

“Can I?” Mike’s expression instantly changes from embarrassed to hopeful. Will smiles.

“Of course. I mean, we’ll have to share though, unless you want to sleep on the floor.”

“Sharing’s fine.”

Mike immediately crouches and begins untying his shoelaces while Will straightens up the pillows on his bed. They haven’t shared a bed in years, and belatedly, he wonders if they’ll both fit. His friend doesn’t seem to share his concerns, as he immediately scuttles under the covers as soon as his shoes are off his feet.

“Are you going to get in trouble? In the morning?” Will asks, crawling onto the mattress as Mike holds the blanket up for him. He curls up on his side in a mimicry of his friend’s position. Their knees knock together, and their faces are close enough that Will can feel the heat of Mike’s breath on his nose with every exhale, but they fit.

“Probably,” Mike answers. He sounds like there’s nothing in the world he cares less about.

“Do you wanna talk about it? The nightmare?”

“I…It’s…I dunno. It’s stupid.”

“It can’t be that stupid, not if you’re sneaking out of your house because of it.”

Mike doesn’t budge, instead just giving him a one shouldered shrug.

“I get nightmares too,” Will confides. “I get them all the time. Sometimes, they’re about the Demogorgon, but usually, I’m just…trapped there again. And everything’s dark and cold, and I’m just…waiting. Waiting for something to _bad _to happen, knowing I’m too tired to run away when it does.”

Mike’s eyes look huge in the dim light streaming in through Will’s window, eyebrows scrunched up, mouth tipped downwards in a concerned frown.

“Is that how it happened?” He asks.

Will nods.

“I couldn’t run anymore.”

A single hand gently traces a line from Will’s hair down to his chin. It’s a weird gesture, an oddly intimate one that he doesn’t particularly expect from Mike.

“You died. In my dream…you died. They went in to get you, but they only brought your body out. And…” Mike’s voice catches in his throat. “I know that doesn’t sound bad, but it was just like when they dragged your body from the water. Your fake body. You were so cold, and…and…_gray_…and I kept asking you to open your eyes, but,” he takes a shaky breath in, “you wouldn’t. You weren’t _there_. I kept begging you to come back but _you weren’t there_.”

Will watches with something akin to awe as a single tear makes its way down Mike’s cheek. With a shaky hand, he reaches up to wipe it away.

“I’m here now, though,” he says, brushing a sharp cheekbone with his thumb.

“I know. I know, that’s why…that’s why I had to see you. I woke up and I just…I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. I had to make sure that you were here…that it was just a dream.”

Mike presses his forehead against his, eyes closed, almost like he’s basking in Will’s presence. From this angle, Will could count every freckle dusted along Mike’s cheeks and nose, could find constellations in them if he wanted, and the thought makes his face warm.

Once, when he was little, he made the mistake of telling his parents that he thought Mike was “pretty.” While his mom had found it cute, it had sent his father into a rage like he’d never seen. Lonnie had gripped his arm so tight while he yelled at him, it had bruised for over a week. Will had learned a lot of new words that day, curse words and slurs that Jonathan was left to explain after their dad had packed his things and moved up to Indianapolis.

That day had made him afraid of Mike in a way, afraid to talk about him freely, to be affectionate with him, to comfort him and hold him the way Will feels he deserves.

But Mike doesn’t share that fear.

Mike doesn’t have a father like his; a father that would hurt him or call him names. He doesn’t have kids at school trying to see if he can fit inside a locker, spitting ‘fag’ and ‘fairy’ the whole time, as if those names are something dirty—as if _he _is something dirty—something that deserves to be hated.

No, Mike gives and receives affection like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Or, in Will's case, takes affection. Almost like he knows that Will wants to give it but can’t. It's always an arm thrown around his shoulder, a stolen hug at the end of a good campaign, a soft hand patting the top of his own.

And Will’s grateful for it, cherishes it. In some ways, he feels like he would be lost without it—lost without Mike. He wonders if Mike feels the same way, if that’s why a dream about his death had terrified him so much. He doesn’t have to dwell on it long when Mike answers the question on his own.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mike’s arm wraps around his middle and tug him impossibly closer, pulling him into the tightest hug. His head is squished under Mike’s chin, face buried in his neck, and to keep both of his arms from getting pinned between them, he drapes one carefully around the taller boy’s shoulders.

Heat is building in his chest, flashing up his spine and tingling all the way down to his toes. Will’s not stupid. He knows what a crush is, knows that he’s had one on his best friend for as long as he can remember. He’s usually so good about pushing it down and ignoring it, but right now, this close to Mike, smelling the soap from his shower and the fresh air on his skin, Will for the life of him can’t remember why he does it.

Mike’s hand moves off his waist to pet at his hair, and Will melts into the touch.

He hasn’t felt so important, so _cared for_ since he came back from the Upside Down. His mom and Jonathan hover in a way that’s so oppressive, on some days it feels like he can barely breathe. They always touch him like he’s about to break, like his skin is made of glass that’s already been cracked. He didn’t know that this was what he needed until he had it—to be held, and to be held tight. Being held tight by Mike, well, that’s just a bonus.

“Will,” Mike whispers, and Will jerks his head back, finding that somewhere in his musings he had started to fall asleep.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds groggy and thick, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Mike’s lips quirk up in a smile.

It only takes a second, but in the sleepy haze of his mind, it seems to last a lifetime. The warm brush of lips against his cheek, the arm twining back around his waist, Mike’s nose gently brushing against his in the sweetest way imaginable.

“I love you,” Mike whispers.

Exhaustion is tugging hard at Will’s mind, harder than it has in ages. Because he feels warm and he feels safe, and Mike…Mike…

“I love you, too,” Will murmurs, fighting fruitlessly for a few suspended moments as sleep carries him off. 

For the first time in months, wrapped up in each other’s arms, both boys rest peacefully. 


End file.
